


Taking the Antidote

by Cinder7storm4



Series: How can I trust you? [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dead Claudia Stilinski, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Hallucinations, Honesty, Memories, Nicknames, Oblivious Scott McCall, Protective Sheriff Stilinski, Sad Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stilinski Family Feels, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 13:10:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinder7storm4/pseuds/Cinder7storm4
Summary: Stiles takes the antidote. Sheriff Stilinski resolves to do better for his son.





	Taking the Antidote

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf.

Eventually, Stiles’ tears dried, but he clung to his dad. He was so afraid that his dad would walk away. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t, not after everything that had happened. 

John clung to Stiles, part of him wanted to keep them there in that moment forever so that he could watch over and comfort his son like he was meant to as a father. 

Stiles went to pull away from his dad, still somewhat convinced this was all a dream. His dad’s arms tightened instinctively around him as he made to leave the circle of comfort they provided. Instead of speaking, John simply pulled Stiles closer and nabbed the antidote at the same time, offering it to him. Stiles took the small bottle, rolling it between his fingers for a moment.

“Da... Dad. I don’t know what it’s going to show me, but please, please don’t leave, okay?” By the time Stiles reached the end of his plea his voice was practically a whimper. John wanted to just shush him and keep him close, but he knew his son. Stiles needed words; silence was the enemy here. Silence wounded Stiles just as much as claws and fists. 

“I’ll be right here, Mica. Always.”

Stiles didn’t look at him, but just nodded, then downed the antidote. The moment he swallowed Stiles could feel it working. It burned down his throat and he felt sick. Stiles jolted as memories seemed to bleed through from his mind to his entire body. He couldn’t see or hear his dad. He was alone. The world went dark.

John had to hold himself back from dialling 911 the moment Stiles swallowed the antidote. His son’s body went taut in his arms and then somehow he found the strength to curl up, angled away from John. Fresh tears were already streaming down Stiles’ face and he appeared completely unaware of his surroundings. John felt his heart hurt when he thought of Stiles going through this on his own. He had no idea how long his son had suffered the previous night before he’d found him. 

So far though, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before over the past 24 hours. Stiles’ tears made his heart clench but his son wasn’t speaking, yet. John wasn’t actually sure whether he really wanted to know what else he’d done to hurt his son in the past, but he knew without a doubt that he owed this to Stiles. He owed his son the care, comfort, and protection he’d been denied. 

Then, suddenly, Stiles uncurled and stopped crying. It was so abrupt that John was immediately on edge. He thought back to Derek’s brief explanation about how the antidote would work and then his mind jumped to Stiles’ own experience from the party. He’d been living the memory so maybe... John stood up slowly as Stiles moved off the bed, muttering. He was fully in the hallucination, it wasn’t just happening in front of him.

Stiles felt small again. Small like he’d been before his mother had died. Small like when she’d hurt him. Small and defenceless. 

Somehow he knew it was light outside meaning he should be up. His dad wouldn’t be home for hours and he had to make sure that when his mother woke up that he was well away from her. 

John watched, half heartbroken and half fascinated as he listened to Stiles rattle off a list of things to do before his mother woke up. He’d always wondered how the house had stayed together in the beginning but he’d never had time to ask. It became plain to him that Claudia had been in a bad way for longer than anyone had known. Well, anyone except Stiles. 

He had expected every memory to be violent, but as Stiles wandered over to the bedroom door, mouth still listing things that no eight year old should have to worry about: “Hide the knives. No more knives. Don’t care if Dad gets angry later...” John realized that this was the start of Stiles feeling like he was alone against the rest of the world. Somehow this was worse than hearing his son cry. 

John crossed the room to stop Stiles from opening the door. He wanted to keep this contained; he wanted to keep Stiles close. As he pressed his palm against the door to keep it closed Stiles cocked his head, and in any other situation John would have teased him about being adorable, but here, Stiles just looked too young and innocent for everything that had happened to him. 

Stiles was confused. The door wouldn’t open... why? Then he looked up to see his dad. He blinked and another memory took shape in his mind, whipped into a frenzy by the wolfsbane. 

John saw Stiles’ eyes widen then sharpen. “Mica?” he spoke tentatively.

Stiles stumbled back at the name as if slapped. He bit his lip, struggling not to cry. This, he’d asked for it, humming his mom’s favourite song while he made dinner. Inserting his and his Mom’s names into the song. He’d forgotten that his dad had come home between the morning and night shift. He’d forgotten to shut up. 

“I’ll be quiet.”

“Why?” John asked, trying to figure out what this memory was about. 

Stiles’ eyes narrowed slightly as if suspicious and John could only hope that he was the one getting through to his son and not whatever memory preying on Stiles’ mind. 

“Because,” the word hung in the air as Stiles shuffled another half step away, “Because I’m not supposed to use that name anymore... I know, you told me. I know...”

John was at a real loss then. He’d never have taken Stiles’ name from him... had he? It was one of his son’s favourite things about himself. He guarded it like a dragon protected its treasure. 

“What did I say, exactly, son?” John kept his voice level, confusion knitting his brows. 

Stiles stood straighter. He looked almost at attention. John squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. His son’s stance so at odds with his vibrant personality. He opened his eyes again, Stiles still watching him, but eyes slightly unfocused. This was still the antidote. John somehow found that reassuring.

“Stiles?”

“It was her choice, the name. I’m supposed to let it die with her.”

John had been right. This was worse. Anger he could watch, but this was cruelty in its finest form. What the hell had he been thinking? While he was caught up in his own thoughts Stiles had snapped into another memory. 

He sank to the floor, fingers tracing designs into the carpet. John crouched too, situating himself out of Stiles’ line of sight. Then Stiles started to speak. 

“Hey mom, I know it’s late, but dad’s working a double and normally I’d be fine but...” Stiles sniffed and swiped a hand across his face. “I asked Scott to come over. I gave him our stupid code word and everything, but he’s with Allison, so... I’m alone.”

John mentally added Scott to the list of people to talk to after this was all over. Stiles needed his best friend, and he hadn’t been there for him. Scott had ignored the code word, which shocked John beyond all else. 

The boys never ignored their code word — even when both of them knew they’d catch hell for it they would get to each other if one of them whispered it over the phone or shot it off in a text. When Scott’s dad had threatened him he’d called Stiles. Stiles had literally climbed out his window to avoid his dad and get to Scott in time. But, Scott had ignored Stiles this time, and it had to have been recently. John suddenly found himself wishing he didn’t work so many double shifts so that he could figure out when this had happened. 

Stiles was still speaking though, and John knew without a doubt that he was imagining sitting at Claudia’s grave. 

“Sixteen isn’t really a big deal, not really, I just thought maybe for a day it’d be nice to feel important. I mean, I know that with Scott being a werewolf and all this tension with the Argents it’s not the best time for a pity party, but hey, it’s ten minutes to midnight and I’ve been 16 for a day. I just wanted to spend my birthday with someone.” Then Stiles made to curl up and seemed to drift off to sleep.

John couldn’t help the pained gasp he exhaled as he watched Stiles sleep, truly sleep. He watched his son choose to curl up beside his mother’s grave to spend his birthday with someone. John wanted to protest, to tell himself that he might be careless, but he’d never forget his son’s birthday. 

Except, he had. He could feel it in his bones, because he remembered Stiles coming home in the early hours of the morning, hoodie covered in dirt dust. He remembered yelling at his son about being irresponsible, untrustworthy, and worst of all, uncaring of John’s own worry for him. Stiles had just taken the yelling and John, thinking his son was trying to be smart with him, had grounded him for the next week. 

John thought numbly, that he needed to stop thinking he would never do certain things, because obviously he was capable of more than he’d ever thought. His eye caught the clock on his beside table, realizing that it was now the afternoon. 

He looked to Stiles who was still sleeping. Derek had whispered to him before he left that this would be the final stage of withdrawal. Stiles would fall asleep, truly asleep, and then awake free of poison. 

God, his son had been poisoned. 

John moved from his crouch to sit down and lean back against his bed, watching his son sleep. He didn’t care if he was hungry, or tired. Stiles was what mattered. He waited and watched, hating himself a little more as every second ticked by.


End file.
